BEAN LARD MULCH

My apartment mate has three peculiarities (four, if you count living in the same apartment as myself, which I don't, and neither should you). She's got Asperger's and obsesses a bit, she's a food-purist, and she has all the conversational skills of an imaginary person (even though she herself is quite real).

I made the mistake of saying "mmm, bean lard mulch" while I was in the kitchen. Bean lard mulch springs from the fertile mind of Don Hertzfeld, the animator behind Bitter Films. Both of us had seen his reel of rejected clips a few years ago, and loved it. For days afterward we were saying things like "my anus is bleeding", and "my spoon is too big" at random moments. Bean lard mulch.
As good as Billy's Balloon.
Or Wisdom Teeth.

She promptly went off on a tangent. She would certainly eat bean lard mulch, it sounded quite delicious (we agree about that). And she would prettily thank whoever offered it or dished it forth. Which she then did, fulsomely in French. At very great length. In French. Fluent, nicely pronounced, and rather eloquent sounding French.

French is an entirely new development.

What has she been reading?

Good heavens.


Here it is, very much later, and I realize that A) one should dare not interrupt her when she is thanking a non-existent person for the gift of delicious bean lard mulch, and B) if one were to suggest additions, like, as examples, bits of freshly fried bacon and chopped green Jalapeño chilies, maybe fire-roasted, she would take it very much amiss.
NO ONE messes with the brilliance of bean lard mulch!
It is beautiful in its simplicity.
A pure food.


Bean lard mulch.



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